


One Percent

by noyin



Series: Space Oddity [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Astronaut!Logan, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, I Know Nothing Of Hospitals, I Know Nothing Of Spaceships, Inspired By: One Percent By Gorillaz, Multi, Oneshot, familial analogical - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noyin/pseuds/noyin
Summary: AnyoneNot anyone of us who is in searchEveryone's receiving you...
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Space Oddity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771471
Comments: 35
Kudos: 63





	One Percent

The stars spun ever so slowly. Passed the circular window overhead, the beauty of the galaxy, starry and alone, stretched out for miles. But nothing came close to the beauty of planet Earth, centered in the glass.

Logan could stare at Earth for hours. It wasn't like there was anything else left for him. After all, he could only do so much about the T. Sanders' condition and he had no company. So he'd float there, trying to sleep but never being able to, and he'd look at Earth, round and awe-some, and…

He found that he cried often.

His eyes turned up to Earth as he floated. He suspended in relax, drifting wherever the loss of gravity took him. It was like he was underwater, which was a fitting comparison; sometimes space felt _suffocating_.

Earth reflected in his teary brown eyes.

"Hello, Patton," Logan said. He sounded as small as he felt. A lone man in space. "It's night now. I know I should be going to sleep, but I can't without telling you that I love you." Logan breathed in a stuttering breath. "I love you."

The fragment of the moon floated in the corner of his peripheral. Logan rubbed his eyes, inhaling again. He hugged himself but it wasn't his own arms he wanted to be in.

"I just wish you were here to hear it."

-

After a while, jerky became something Logan ate for its texture rather than its taste. Logan was sure he wouldn't ever eat jerky again if he had the choice. But he thought it was best that he remained loyal to routine. It was good to have a constant when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Throughout Logan's day, he had five constants. The picture in his pocket that he looked at far too often for far too long, the jerky breakfast and marking down his inventory—he had exactly a hundred and fifty days left of meals now—speaking to his electronic log, up-keeping the ship, and falling asleep as he spoke to the company he didn't have, watching Earth in a distance.

As he chewed the jerky, like many times before, he made his way to the computer room and strapped himself down on the chair. He turned on the computer.

"Salutations, computer. It is day two hundred and eighty five, and it is currently- ah, running a little behind today. It is currently zero nine hundred and seven, UTC. This is still flight engineer Logan of the space shuttle, T. Sanders. I believe I am approximately twenty days away from Earth. As happy as this news is, I do have concerns regarding my reentry into Earth's atmosphere and landing without guidance or assistance. Especially with the OMS engine barely on the side of functioning. Given the OMS engine is used specifically for the final deorbital burn...I'm not entirely sure how much strain the system can handle." Logan leaned back a little.

It wasn't like any of it mattered, though. The worst case scenario would be his untimely death, but Logan had been aware of the possibility since the moment he turned the ship around.

With a sigh, he continued, "It will still be a while before I am faced with the terrifying task of reentry. But until then, I will continue to try to make contact with Ground Control and attempt to repair the OMS engine the best I can, but there is very little I can do." With his sign-off, Logan saved his entry and turned off the computer.

He sat there for a moment in complete silence, save for the ever constant whirring that reverberated within the metal of the ship. With a longer, drawn out sigh, Logan set his head in his shaking palms.

He thought of Patton and Virgil and his heart ached. He longed for them, he wanted to kiss his husband's rosy-cheeked face, he wanted to hug his son. He wanted to see them, so much it hurt.

He pressed his palm against his lips, just as the tears rushed from his eyes, as the ever occurring thought returned to him, "I'm never going to see them again," Logan sobbed, muffled.

It felt like the world was crushing around him and it was hard to breathe. Logan did his best to ground himself before the anxiety could take hold of him, but he could tell he was slipping into a breakdown. It was hard to stay grounded when he was so far above the world.

Logan couldn't withhold from bursting into tears. Doubt and fear was festering in Logan's mind more and more, now. Irrational thoughts, human thoughts, and Logan knew that these were made of raw instinct and emotion. He just wanted to return safely to his family.

But as time went on, the more he believed he had already seen their last smiles.

-

Logan held the picture of Patton and Virgil in his trembling hand. The picture was so worn, with a line going down the middle from how he had folded it and a white splotch over the corner of Patton's cheek where he had brushed his thumb over thousands of times.

He took his time as he chewed through his jerky, appreciating the texture one last time as though it was his last meal.

His heart pounded against his ribcage and he felt alive with anticipation. He would be seeing his family soon.

Logan's eyes drifted to the spacesuit in hung neatly on the wall. And the face of the Earth pressed against the circular window overhead.

-

The only thing he could hear was the steady pulse of his heart thumping in his ears and the heaviness of his breath.

The presence of Earth was daunting. The adrenaline which flooded his veins made him shakier than usual, and the looming thought that he might not make it home— _no_ , Logan thought, and instead he forced himself to think of Patton's smile.

He pressed the button for the intercom to Ground Control, knowing he would be met with nothing but hoping anyway, as he had done for all of three hundred and five days.

"This is flight engineer Logan to Ground Control," Logan said, forcing his voice to steady, "I am preparing to reenter Earth's atmosphere in approximately t-minus one-eighty seconds. The OMS engine is...operable at best, but not entirely reliable. I don't believe I have any other choice, however." Logan said. He inhaled. "It would be beneficial, I think, to have Ground Control as guidance."

Static. Logan sighed, his hand settled on the control panel.

Despite the anticipation that bubbled inside him restlessly, the universe reflected the opposite. It was always quiet. It was always beautiful. He knew the stars would always hold a spot in his heart. Logan was ready to leave it behind to more beautiful sights.

"T-minus one twenty seconds," Logan spoke to the intercom.

Static.

The whirring of the ship rumbled faintly at his feet, and kept him grounded—his thoughts tended to gravitate towards the clouds, towards the worst possible scenarios. But Logan felt the rumbling at his feet and it reminded him, to shift his focus on the things within the realm of his control.

Easily, he placed his hand over the control stick. He closed his eyes. And took a breath.

Static.

Logan's eyes shot open.

"...Is…ol...o..."

He stared at the intercom for a moment, curious. He pressed the button. "Is- is anyone there? Over."

There was silence for a moment, in which Logan held his breath, and then spoke a voice clouded in static, "This is Ground Control to the T. Sanders. Logan Berry, we are receiving you loud and clear. Everyone is receiving you. Over."

Logan let out a soft cry, overwhelmed by relief and shock. _I've made contact with Ground Control_.

"Ground Control, this is flight engineer Logan Berry of the T. Sanders, the only remaining crew aboard the T. Sanders," Logan said. It was a struggle to keep his voice clean and even. "I am set to reenter Earth's atmosphere in approximately t-minus fifty seconds. The OMS engine is damaged and I am flying the craft alone. I require your immediate assistance. Over."

"We will guide you through."

In Logan's field of vision, the Earth began to swallow up the darkness of space into a beautiful hue of blue—the color of blue that had always been Patton's favorite. Then followed the tufts of white clouds and miles of green, a sight that filled Logan was an indescribable feeling of euphoria.

That euphoria lasted for a second before sparks of fire began to flash and the turbulence picked up, making the craft shudder. Logan felt his anxiety spike, his focus fading.

And then a thought came to him, clear as day— _Breathe in for f_ _our_ _seconds_ , he heard himself say—but he was talking to someone else. _Hold for seven seconds_. Virgil knelt in front of him, a tense, clammy hand in his own. _Out_ _for_ _e_ _ight_ _seconds_ , he heard himself say, and Virgil breathed out.

 _Four, seven, eight_.

Logan's breath began to even and everything returned to focus.

As Ground Control spoke through the intercom and Logan executed each command, and it was, as they say, so far, so good. When it came time to put the OMS engine to use, to reduce his velocity until it was suitable enough for landing, Logan felt his doubt creeping in. But it was either die trying or die not trying at all. And Logan would do anything if it gave him a chance to return to his family.

As soon as Logan began to operate the machine, a warning signal beeped within the craft in time with a flashing red light on the dash. _Warning_ , it read, _Overheating_.

Logan grit his teeth, yet held his ground.

The craft began to creak and groan, strong vibrations making the ship shiver. It was growing evident that the engine was struggling, as it was growing extremely turbulent and alarmingly warm aboard the flight deck. The beeping continued, drowning out the static of the intercom.

 _Warning: Overheating_.

Logan did not heed the warning yet, though he knew the engine would soon start to give out on him. He just needed enough time, enough time to-

_Crash!_

Logan jerked in his seat as the spaceship lurched violently, shuddering like a stalling vehicle. Everything felt thrown to disorder, and Logan felt all disoriented, his world spinning in front of him. He could barely hear the blare of the warning, now mixed in with a hissing noise. _Not good_ , Logan thought.

The ground was rapidly approaching. Logan closed his eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

 _Beep, beep, beep, beep_...

-

The experience was still so vivid to him, even in his dreams. Though everything felt distant. He could remember fire. Heat. The feeling of his body twisting and crushing. He couldn't breathe. Water. He remembered the water before his consciousness gave out on him.

But most importantly, he could still hear the beeping, blaring in warning. In warning that everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. And that he would be gone, without so much of a goodbye.

Logan could still hear the beeping.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

But this beeping was different. Slowly, the sound of frantic blaring faded into something calm and steady.

Logan opened his eyes and he was immediately greeted by a gentle light. He turned to it, warmth exploding against his face like delicate kisses on Saturday mornings. _Sunlight_ , his mind supplied helpfully, _Oh, I've missed the sun_.

 _Wait_.

And then the realization hit Logan with full force. He scrambled to sit up, his body protesting every movement and his head throbbing. He was consumed by disbelief—and he needed to know whether or not he was dreaming. Or if he was, maybe, incredibly lucky.

The room was small, pristine, and white, with cabinets and a sink, and a box for sharps. Logan looked down at himself, finding that he was clad in a paper gown. _A hospital_ , Logan quickly deduced. He was at a hospital.

He then turned his focus to the table by his bed, on top of which had a glass of water and a piece of paper beside it. Logan reached for the paper first, its worn edges fitting perfectly in his hand. It was a photograph. He instantly recognized his husband's smile and his son's signature scowl.

Logan covered his mouth, thick tears blurring his vision. _Oh_. He dropped his face in his trembling hands and began sobbing in overwhelming happinessand relief.

"I'm alive," Logan said, "I'm _alive_."

It was so difficult to believe that, after everything, after all the odds were against him, after he truly believed returning home wasn't possible, after he had resigned to believing he would die, he would be alone-

After everything, he was _w_ _rong_.

Logan looked up when he heard footsteps enter his room and hastily made to recompose himself, wiping his eyes free of tears. The nurse who entered stopped by the door with a look of surprise.

"Oh, Mister Berry, you're awake!" he said. He gave Logan a warm smile as he approached with his cart. "I'm Emile and I'm going to be your nurse for today. How are you feeling?"

"Salutations, Emile," Logan said. He paused for a moment. "I'm feeling overwhelmed, I think. I've been in space for nearly a year, after all, and I thought I wouldn't-" Logan said, but he stopped himself. He smiled a little to Emile. "You know, it's nice to be speaking to someone again."

"I can't imagine how you must feel right now. It must've been hard for you," Emile said.

"I don't particularly want to discuss it," Logan said.

"That's completely understandable. When you were admitted, you had several broken ribs and a severe concussion. You just woke up from a medically induced coma," Emile explained, "So, I'm going to check your vitals now, if that's alright with you."

"I want to go home," Logan said instead. It wasn't what he meant to say, but it certainly was what he _wanted_ to say.

Emile paused. "Oh. Well, I'm not sure that would be advisable."

"I know," Logan said, "But if I can be prescribed a medicine to manage pain, I think it would be appropriate enough to discharge me."

"I would have to check with the doctor on that," Emile said. "Let me take your vitals and I'll get into contact with him."

"That is fine," Logan said, "Thank you, Emile."

-

Maybe it wasn't the most logical thing to leave the hospital against medical advice, but Logan couldn't regret his decision.

He sat nervously in the back of the taxi cab, his precious photograph cradled in his hands in his lap, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at it. He couldn't wait for the moment he wouldn't need the photograph anymore. He would be able to stroke his husband's cheek and hug his son, rather than brush the worn face of the picture and press it close to his chest.

There was nothing that could describe all that he was feeling in that very moment. Especially as familiar sights began to fly by through the cab's window—the cafe on the corner, the local library, the skate park, the flower shop. Logan was getting all antsy with anticipation when the taxi turned into his neighborhood.

It was only a short drive until his home came into view and it looked just as welcoming as he remembered it to be, and Logan felt like bursting into tears upon seeing it. After all this time, he was finally _home_.

"Alright, babes, here we are. Twenty-four Stokes Lane," said the driver as he pulled up against the curb.

Logan paid the fare, hurried out of the cab and collected his duffle bag of belongings. He stood at the end of the driveway for a second, taking a few recomposing breaths, as he felt like he was going to explode with nerves, he was trembling so much.

He made his way up the driveway and to the front door, his heart beating harder with every step. Finally, he lifted his hand to the door and gave a firm rap. A moment or two passed, and then the door unlocked and swung open.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The person that stood in the doorway wasn't someone he recognized, but rather a young adult with tan skin, fluffy hair and honey colored eyes, clad in a jacket over a set of pajamas. Logan felt his heart sink a little and he frowned.

"I- I'm-" Logan stammered, at a complete loss on what to say. He adjusted his glasses and took in a deep breath. "I'm looking for the Berry residence. Do they still...live here?"

The man smiled brightly. "Oh, yeah! This is the Berry residence," he said, "I'm Roman. Can I help you with anything?"

Logan felt a smile spread across his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Roman. I'm Logan Berry."

Roman's eyes grew wider than saucers. " _You're_ -"

"Hey, Princey," spoke a third voice, low and grouchy, which Logan recognized immediately. "Who the heck are you talking t-"

As Virgil popped around the door frame, he stopped completely in his tracks, shocked. The three of them stood there in silence for the longest time—Logan was simply too overwhelmed by the sheer joy of seeing his son for the first time in a year, and Virgil looked as if he had died and come back to life. Which, honestly, Logan wouldn't blame him for thinking so.

Virgil clutched Roman's sleeve with white knuckles and buried his face into Roman's arm, and began _w_ _eeping_. He quickly abandoned Roman and stumbled through the doorway into Logan's arms. Logan caught him in an embrace with a teary smile.

" _Dad_ ," Virgil cried.

"Virgil. I love you, Virgil," Logan said, his voice all shaky with emotion. "I'm here. I've missed you _so much_."

"I fuckin' hate you," Virgil said thickly. "I hate you so much."

But Virgil squeezed him tighter, as if he would never let go, and continued to weep against Logan's shoulder. Logan closed his eyes and held him close, and while there were no words exchanged, the hug spoke multitudes. Logan had dreamt about this moment for so long and nothing in the universe compared to what he was feeling. The physical manifestation of absolute happiness and love was right there in Virgil's arms.

"'m sorry," Virgil mumbled, sniffling and wiping his eyes. "I was so angry at you. But I love you so much."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Virgil."

"Wait, shit-" Virgil pulled away from him. "Dad, you _have_ to see papa."

Logan's heart lurched at the thought of Patton and he smiled. "Yes."

Virgil pulled him inside, and Roman closed the door behind them and took Logan's duffle bag. As soon as he stepped in, he was bombarded by warmth, familiarity, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies. He knew he was truly home and that alone felt so overwhelmingly euphoric.

And then he heard the sound of singing coming from the kitchen and he couldn't hold back a smile. He could imagine the scene—Patton, clad in an apron with the words ' _Hi Hungry, I'm Dad_ ' printed on it, flour in his hair and his cheeks rosy.

Virgil led him into the kitchen and Logan's breath caught in his throat when he saw his Patton, the love of his life, for the first time in _far_ too long.

Though his attention was towards the oven, as he held a tray of hot cookies in one hand, and fiddling with the oven knob with the other.

"Oh, goodness, we need a new oven," Patton said with a light laugh. Logan's heart fluttered.

"Hey, Papa," Virgil said. He was beaming. "Guess what."

"Yes? What is it?" Patton turned around.

His eyes met with Logan's and if felt like the world stopped spinning. There was a sharp clatter as the tray of cookies slipped from Patton's grasp. Logan could see the slight tremble in his hands as he brought them over his mouth in complete shock. Tears began to spill from his eyes and stream messily down his cheeks.

" _Logan_?"

"Hello, darling," Logan said, tears also gathering on his lashes.

Patton cried softly, sinking to his knees on the kitchen linoleum. Logan approached and knelt beside him, collecting his husband in his arms. Patton turned into his chest, gripping the face of his shirt and hiding in the crook of his neck.

"I must be dreaming," Patton said through his hiccups. "I missed you, Logan. _So much_."

"I love you," Logan said.

Patton tittered and sobbed, cupping Logan's cheek in his palm. When he smiled, his eyes shimmered like stars—beautiful and warm, and- nothing like the loneliness of the galaxy.

Patton leaned up to place a teary kiss onto Logan's lips. It felt like a dream to finally be in the arms of his love, to be able to kiss him, and hold him, and smell the chocolate chip that clung to his hair.

"You said you'd be back before I knew it." Patton said.

"I know. I'm so sorry."

Patton smiled softly, however, and kissed him again. "I'm so happy, Logan. I'm so happy you're home. And I love you _so much_."

"I love you so much, too. And there's nowhere I'd rather be than here. In your arms. With Virgil and Roman," Logan said. He held Patton tighter, placing a kiss on his forehead. " _Nowhere in the galaxy._ "

**Author's Note:**

> :') I'm sorry this took so long. Anyway this was so hard to write. I'm done. Thank you for reading


End file.
